Driving backward down Julia Street

Before I rode in Nyx last year, the last time I was in town specifically for Mardi Gras was the last year I lived in New Orleans. It was 2006, the Katrina Mardi Gras. We were a city in need of a lot of things, joy and levity being low on the list, but very important. We needed to gather with family and friends, watch marching bands (the ones that could make it) do their thing, catch beads, and marvel at the beautiful floats. We needed the biting satire of krewes, most notably Krewe D'Etat, who skewered everyone and everything about the storm. I still have a cup from their ride that year; the "Katrina Olympics" was the theme. Being able to do "normal" things is an important part of healing. Of course, we were criticized for celebrating that year, mostly by people who weren't there and had no business being involved in the conversation. It wasn't about putting a band-aid on an immense tragedy; it was a step in the process of healing and coming home for many people. I don't understand why people don't get that.

Anyway, last year was my first year riding in Nyx, and it was my first real Mardi Gras experience since I moved away in July 2006. I had been back a few times where I caught part of a parade or something, but I was never there for vacation and for Mardi Gras specifically. I wasn't prepared for the emotions I felt participating in the krewe and parade. Making my purses, riding with two of my dearest friends, entertaining thousands of people, it was perfect. Being back in our city was magical and beautiful and cathartic.

Being part of a krewe is being part of New Orleans history. These groups keep traditions going, create new ways of parading, and move the carnival tradition forward. My krewe is younger in the grand scheme of Mardi Gras, and we stand on the shoulders of the all female krewes that came before us. They helped pave the way for our group and many others, and have helped modernize carnival in many ways. For me, it's about belonging to something bigger than me. I was searching for that when I was invited to join last year. I didn't know it at the time, but that's what I was doing. And I found it a glitter infused parade. Who knew?

So I think it goes without saying that I was excited for my second ride. I challenged myself on my purses, using Louisiana music as my inspiration. I loved making every single one. The process of making purses is involved; each one takes days to complete. Sometimes I have to remake parts of the purse to get it right. I hope the people who got mine this year love them. But I'm getting ahead of myself. One of the things we agreed to this year was spending more time enjoying the city. We spent so much time running around last year that we didn't really take joy in being home. This year, we played tourist and did as many things as possible. We visited Loyola, shopped a lot, and ate all the food. It was perfect.

Wednesday was a gorgeous day. By the time we were loaded on our floats, it was clear and cool after so many days of gloomy, rainy weather. After spending the day enjoying the pre-parade party and catching up with our float sisters, it was nice to get on the float and get ready to ride. Our float, Float 40 - Moon River, was one of the last six floats in the parade. Our group, me, Kelly, Karen (new this year), Heather, and Mary Irene, rode up top again. It was different this year, not being in our little tandem, but wonderful to be with so many of the rest of the group. I was next to two new riders, and enjoyed talking with them as we waited to start our ride. We organized throws, took pictures, and enjoyed the calm before the parade.

What's fun about waiting to ride is that people come out to watch us get into parade formation. We leave the Convention Center lot, and move to Tchoupitoulas. It's here that we get in line and marching/dancing groups join in as well. People along the street come out to watch and wave even though we can't throw anything. It's part of the spectacle that is Mardi Gras. Some people never go to the route, but they watch this part and it's enough. 

Of course, we never really it made it to the route this year. Just before we made the turn onto Jefferson, word came down the route that a woman had been struck by a float. At first, we heard that she was injured, but then we learned she died at the scene of the accident. Then we heard we were being rerouted to meet the front of the parade and finish the ride. We threw some things to people still on the route. Then we stopped. And waited some more. Then we were rerouted off the route and back to Tchoupitoulas to return to the staging lot. It was a somber ride back, and would have been silent had people not come out of their homes to watch us head back. They smiled and waved and shouted words of encouragement. People around Float 21, where the everything happened, took care of our Nyx sisters there too, offering food and water and hugs. It's what a community does. 

There's no right way to feel about this year. I'm devastated for the family of Geraldine Carmouche, the woman who died. I can't imagine what they're going through and only hope that people will continue to support them during this time. I can't stop thinking of Mrs. Carmouche and her family. She is in my thoughts and prayers always. 

This is where it gets tricky. It's also so disappointing and frustrating. I'm angry and sad that I didn't get to do something I've been planning and working on for an entire year. Over 2000 Nyx sisters didn't get to ride and were basically dumped back in the staging lot to fend for ourselves. We feel abandoned and defeated. It's awful to see such a beautiful event become a nightmare on so many levels. We're allowed to feel angry and frustrated and disappointed, and also mourn the loss of a life. For those lecturing us and calling us terrible because "you only wanted a party" - shut your mouth and mind your business. You don't get to determine how any of us feel or grieve. No one in our krewe is victim blaming (as some have said) and no one feels anything but shattered for Mrs. Carmouche and her family. I can grieve for her and still be disappointed in the situation. Human emotions are complex that way.

So while I wanted to tell you a fun story about my week, starting with my taxi driver driving backward down Julia Street to get me to my hotel, only stopping to avoid a cop and a marching group, and end with a triumphant Nyx ride, I can't.

Instead, I'll say these things:

• To Mrs. Carmouche's family and friends - my deepest sympathies to you. You're in my thoughts and prayers. 
• To the parade-goers who took care of our sisters on Float 21 and all of you who waited for us - thank you. You are what make New Orleans a great place. Seeing your pictures and posts from the beginning of the parade helps so much. I hope the four people who got my purses (I did throw them on the weird route) enjoy them.
• To my Nyx Sisters on Float 21 - you are loved and supported. We're all here for you.
• To the Float 21 driver - I have no idea what you're going through, but know that so many people are here for you if you need anything.
• Thank you to NOPD and other first responders for doing your best to keep everyone safe. 
• I appreciate all of my friends and family who checked in. Your texts and posts have really helped.
• To all the Nyx Sisters I talked to and hugged since Wednesday - I'll see you next year! I know our Captain and Board are trying their best right now. Let's be patient and see what happens after this weekend. If you're riding with our sister parade, Pandora, have a great ride! 
• Float 40 and our lieutenant Caitlin - y'all are the best group of women I know. Thank you for being amazing and wonderful. As an out of towner, I appreciate the extra help so many of you offer and give during the season, especially Caitlin. I'll see everyone next year!
• Last but not least, to Kelly, Heather, Mary Irene, and Karen - I can't ask for a better group of parade buddies. I loved every minute of the time we got to spend together and having this time together. I love you all to pieces. Kelly and Heather - y'all are my sisters. 

Photos by me, Mary Irene, Heather, Kelly, Karen, and a random Nyx Sister who took our group photo at the pre-parade party.

Mardi Gras 2019, Part One: Tonight, We Roll

This is part one of at least a three part series about my experience riding in my first Mardi Gras parade. Two previous blogs about the lead up to riding can be found here and here. Since I know most everyone wants to hear about the experience of riding, I'll start in the middle with load-in and the parade itself. At least one of the posts will be a little sad; this is not that one. This is probably the funnest of the series because everyone loves a parade! Enjoy - from your resident Misfit!

If I had to pick one image that reflects the fun and fabulousness of the last week, this would be it. This is pre-parade, from our perch on the upper level of the tandem. We're mostly in costume, ready to roll out for the first time, together and having a blast.

Riding in a Mardi Gras parade is an odd thing to most people, you know, people who don't live in Louisiana. When you haven't experienced Mardi Gras in person, a parade is a very different thing. For most people, a parade is a quaint thing, something that happens maybe once a year on the Fourth of July or maybe St. Patrick's Day. It's fun, but no one spends a lot of time thinking about how it was organized or the people who ride in it. It happens, you come out and wave a flag, have a few laughs and then go home. You tuck the parade away until you hear or see the ad about it again the following year. It's part of your life, but not part of your life.

Mardi Gras is the exact opposite. I'm not here to tell you the history of Mardi Gras; there are dozens of books out there that are far better for that than me. Try Mardi Gras: Chronicles of the New Orleans Carnvial by Errol Laborde, Mardi Gras in New Orleans: An Illustrated History by Arthur Hardy, or New Orleans Carnival Krewes by Rosary O'Neil (who also happens to be a former professor of mine). Mardi Gras isn't one day; it's a season. It starts on Twelfth Night (Epiphany) in early January and runs through the day before Ash Wednesday, Mardi Gras Day. Between Twelfth Night and Mardi Gras Day, there are dozens of parades, walking groups, and celebrations. New Orleans isn't the only place were Mardi Gras/Carnival is celebrated, but it's probably one of the most well-known celebrations. Most people think of three things when they think of Mardi Gras in New Orleans: beads, boobs, and booze. It's so much more than any of those things, but you have to experience it to really see that.

Mardi Gras is part of everyone in the region's life whether they enjoy it or not. Parades disrupt traffic in a major way, so even if you don't like Mardi Gras, you have to deal with it. There were times when I lived in New Orleans, that I felt the rage of not being able to get anywhere during a parade. I would grumble and be annoyed. However, after riding down Tchoupitoulas to get in formation, I finally understand the magic of a parade. People were on the street just watching us line up. We're not allowed to throw anything at that point, but they wanted to see the floats and get into a parade mood. That's a thing: parade mood.

But let me step back. You can't be in formation without a little work. I rode in the parade with my two college roommates, Kelly and Heather, and Heather's mom, Mary Irene. All of us live out of town, so we missed out on a lot of the pre-parade events like our membership meeting where the theme was announced ("There's No Bigger Party than a Parade") and costume pickup. Thankfully, we have the greatest float lieutenant in the world, Caitlin, who picked up our costumes, bought our harnesses, and generally made everything work. She, along with the rest of the ladies of Float 11, are the best people I know. They're friendly, welcoming, and most of all, super fun. Heather picked up our costumes from Caitlin on the way from the airport to the hotel. Costuming is a big part of Mardi Gras. In addition to a standard costume across the krewe, we all wear masks and elaborate wigs and headdresses. Our float's theme was "Prince Charming" so our headdress included a knight's helmet, feathers, and LED lights. You know, like every prince wears.

Prior to the actual parade, we have to load the floats. A lot of this is done in advance, since we order throws (throws: beads, cups, plush, novelty items, purses, basically anything we throw from the float to the crowd) from a company that pre-loads them to the float for us. Load-in is all about organizing all of the throws and bringing all the other stuff onto the float, including our purses, snacks and food (which we bought too much of), and other throws we brought with us. We also needed to tarp everything since the forecast called for rain overnight.

So much pink. Having only been on the receiving end of parade throws, I never knew what went into getting all the stuff together. The fact that most of what I threw was pre-loaded on the float for me is amazing. In addition to the beads, I also bought some novelty bags which included everything from Nyx themed bath bombs (no joke) to parade themed items like light-up Poseidon tridents and pirate swords (all float titles started with a "P") and then super random things like post-it notes and tutus. Basically, if you can put a krewe brand on it and it can light up, I threw it to the crowd. I also bought cups, a Mardi Gras staple, and a plush set (themed stuffed animals). I brought some random things from home, mostly glitter sunglasses and cat ear headbands, and my purses. I figured if I ran out before the end of the parade, I'd spend the time taking video and pictures. I didn't run out, but I did stop throwing for a bit on St. Charles Avenue to ensure I had enough for the second half of the route. 

After float loading, we met up with some of our float sisters at a restaurant on Magazine Street. It was nice to meet a few more people before the day of the parade. They shared stories from past rides and tips for the next day. I can't express enough how much I love the ladies of Float 11. They helped make this a great experience, even if we only got to be around each other for a short time. 

Parade day is a long day. There's a pre-party before the parade at the Convention Center. Everyone shows up in full costume and then it's 3300+ women hanging out and dancing until it's time to load on the floats. I finally got to meet our float lieutenant and some of the women I'd only "met" in our Facebook group. They helped us glitter up our wigs and add more sparkle. We weren't the only newbies; we ended up sitting at a table of all new people. This was a perfect people watching experience for me; my writer brain has filed away a ton of little things for future reference and introvert me had to really work at not being overwhelmed. Being with my friends and the other newbies helped a lot. It's a whirlwind of colors and glitter and people having a great time. Note for next year: brush up on my dancing skills. Everyone knows all the dances and I only sort of do. My goal is to be able to keep up with this police officer. 

Floats were called to loading around 3:30 (our parade rolls at 6:30). We got back to the float, un-tarped everything, which dropped water down below (sorry, ladies) and then proceeded to continue organizing for the ride. I honestly thought I did a nice job of organizing the night before, but I was wrong. I spent the time moving things around, unwrapping more stuff (although I'm glad I kept a lot of stuff in plastic since it rained), and assembling glow necklaces. Glow necklaces are both the best and worst throw; best because I had a lot of them and everyone loves a glow necklace and worst because you either have to put them together or throw them as is and hope the person who catches it figures it out. I did a bit of both, and am still questioning whether I want them next year. Another tip for 2020: style my wig, especially if it's another long one. I had extra bobby pins so I was able to pin it up. It was hot and that helped a lot. Mary Irene said I looked very European once I pinned it up. I also discovered the joy of a fanny pack, something I never thought I'd say in my life. It was easier to access my phone from a fanny pack, especially a pink, glittery one.

We started moving into formation at some point, I don't know when because I wasn't really paying attention to time. As we started lining up on Tchoupitoulas, dark rain clouds started to cross our path. The day had been beautiful, sunny and clear. It rained heavily for about 30 minutes. We put on our ponchos and sat under tarps until it cleared. Thankfully, the rain held off for the rest of the parade and the crowds were huge; rain didn't keep anyone away. The parade in front of us started late, so we waited on Tchoupitoulas by the Winn-Dixie for a long time. The marching bands and dance groups were here too, so we got to hear them practice while we waited.

Once we started to roll, the whole thing became a blur of crowds on the street and throws. My first few throws were weak. I made contact, but my aim was a little off. Some of the throws are light weight so the wind was really in control. I tried to drop those down to people instead of throwing. That sort of worked. Beads are the easiest thing to throw, and I'm proud of my ability to get beads to the back rows of people. Being on the upper level helped with this a lot. I tried to throw things to little girls, people who were really yelling for things, and the occasional handsome dude out on the route. I received blown kisses and long distance high-fives in return. Being on float is a powerful thing.

I ended up making 11 purses to throw. Only my friend Brian "claimed" one of mine, so I threw the other 10 to complete strangers. I feel like this is the way it should be. I picked people based on signs I could see, like the lady who traveled 1802 miles for the parade or the one near Gallier Hall who drew a purse on her sign that looked like one of mine. The guy in front of her caught it, but gave it to her, so I'm proud of him. My second favorite purse, "You're the Cat's Meow," went to a little girl who's mom was carrying her and trying to catch the purse I tossed down. She did and I didn't hit her little girl. Win-win in my book. I hope they post them to the Nyx Purse Tracker, but if they don't, I hope they enjoy the purses and the love that went into each one. 

This is one of the crowd videos I was able to take during the parade. I think it's a great representation of what the crowds are like and the speed we're going. There are so many people and they all want something. It's overwhelming in a fun way. I tried hard to get stuff to kids, but everyone deserves something during a parade. I was surprised at how easy it was to make eye contact with someone so they were ready to catch whatever I was throwing. I thought that would be harder than it was. Maybe it was being on the upper level, maybe we're not as far away from people as I thought we'd be. I apologize to anyone I hit in the face, head, or shoulders. It wasn't intentional, I promise. 

Since I wear glasses, and can't seen without them, I wore my glasses under my mask. I had planned to glue the mask to my glasses, but the addition of light up eyebrows made this too difficult. My light up eyebrows didn't end up working, so I was able to make it work so I could lift up my glasses when needed. This helped a lot since I had to pause frequently to let my glasses de-fog because it was hot. When I did this, I kept my mask on, and took pictures or video since I didn't want to throw blind. Once we left Lee Circle heading to Canal Street (and the end of the route), I wore my glasses on top of my mask because it was more comfortable. Lesson for next year: glue the mask to old glasses. 

And then it was over. By a little after 11, we were at the end of the route, separating the garbage from all of our stuff, and getting off the float. We said goodbye to float members still around and walked the few blocks back to our hotel (thankfully, we stayed close to the end). Everything hurt a little bit, and continues to ache today. I have a weird bruise on my hip, probably from my harness. Yes, we wear harnesses on the float. Mine is pink. It kept me from falling off. Thank you, pink harness. Thankfully, everyone from the float is feeling the same aches I am. It's the price we pay for having so much fun.

Category is: retired showgirl at the end of the night.

Being part of Nyx is definitely one of the funnest things I've ever done in my life. Sharing this experience with Kelly, Heather, and Mary Irene was amazing. Getting to spend time with them, and not have to think about work and other life stuff was a gift. I miss them so much already and will probably need to start a countdown to next year ASAP. Being home was perfect and emotional; I'll share more about this in part two.

Next year, my purse goal is 15. If you want one, you better claim it and make sure I know where you're going to be on the route and you yell extra loud for me. If not, 15 strangers are getting a treat. May the odds be ever in your purse catching favor.

Hail Nyx!

Part Two will be out sometime this week. It's a little more maudlin, but whatever. It's my blog so I do what I want! Part Three will be up next weekend and will include a handy list of things any parade newbie needs to make their riding experience the best experience ever. 

Photos by Heather, Kelly, Mary Irene, a random person who took our float picture, and me. Videos by me. 

Lazy Movie Weekend: We can have fun, but we cannot be wild

Friends are important. I've written about this a lot here on the Island and in my professional life. As I posted on the Facebook this week, sometimes you realize that you need your "let's ditch touring colonial homes to go to Myrtle Beach to dance and meet boys" friends and sometimes you need your "I'd slice open the belly of a tauntaun to protect you on Hoth" friends. Sometimes you need both (and you should always plan on being both at some point in your life). One of the most challenging things about friendship, to me at least, is distance. We don't live in a world where people stay in the same place their whole lives (most of us don't) so we don't live down the street from our best friend or even in the same city or town. We may find new friends as we move and settle elsewhere but it's never the same.

I'm lucky that one of my oldest friends (I've known her since the 7th grade) still lives in the area so I always have a partner in crime, but my closest friends, my girls from college, are all over the place. That point was driven home a few weeks ago when I visited Ocracoke. I don't know how many times Kelly and I discussed how we wished we lived nearer to one another. Alas, that is not the way life is currently working.

This exact theme is at the heart of this weekend's Lazy Movie Weekend. It's one of my favorite movies of all time and is about friendship and new beginnings and whether or not it is appropriate to do modern ballet at a beauty pageant (the answer will be revealed below). The girls in the film are all about to go their separate ways after high school and want one last adventure. Yes, friends, I'm talking about 1989's Shag the Movie. This movie has everything: Myrtle Beach, an Elvis-esque teen idol, a dance contest, perfect hair, and Scott Coffey. Let's put on our Shagging shoes, grab a few beevos, and have the most fun watching Shag the Movie.

• I own this movie on VHS. Because of this, I had to take it to my parents' house to watch since they still have a VCR. My mother thoroughly enjoyed this because she loves the music. Fun fact: she was a freshman in high school in 1963, the year in which Shag is set.
• In addition to Phoebe Cates and Annabeth Gish, 80s teen movie queens (for Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Mystic Pizza, respectively), this movie featured the next generation of some very famous families including Bridget Fonda, Page Hannah (sister of Darryl), and Tyrone Power, Jr. This was a super big deal in 1989.
• "Every damn thing has to happen when you're in a damn hurry." Luanne (Page Hannah). Luanne is arguably the most quotable character in this movie and that is saying a lot. 
• Best beauty advice ever: don't wear dark lipstick. Followed closely by the rule of not letting any of the other girls drive her car. Mrs. Clatterbuck was a smart lady. 
  
• Girls "kidnapping" their friends is a thing and it always will be. At least in this instance, Luanne, Pudge, and Melaina are planning something fun for Carson rather than say, making her go to breakfast in her pajamas or accidentally killing her with a jawbreaker (see 1999's Jawbreaker for more details on how this last one worked). Come to think about it, we should just stop this practice immediately.
• I can't think of anymore Southern names than Melaina, Carson, and Harley. Hearing their names makes me want to say things like "I'm just sayin' is all" and "I mean" and throw a "y'all" in at every possible opportunity. 
• Can we bring back the fashion of this movie? Maybe not all the halter tops (although they all look adorable on these ladies) but the dresses and the skirts and the shoes and the cigarette pants. We all need these back in our lives. Even Vogue agrees with me.
• Does anyone have one of those nail polish dryers? I mean, I would never get a gel manicure again if I had one of those. A hair dryer is not the same.
  
• Carson: I think eyeliner is trashy. Melaina: I wear eyeliner. Carson: Well, it looks good on some people. Only true friends can have this type of dialogue.
• How many times does Luanne say "Melaina" in an exasperated way in this movie? I lost count and we're only 20 minutes in.
• Places like the Pavilion just don't exist anymore. I'm not saying this is why the world sucks but it's possible it's part of the reason. The look on Pudge's face when she sees it for the first time is my proof.
• "Why can't girls ask boys to dance?" Pudge (Annabeth Gish) is my favorite of the four girls. I suspect I'm halfway between Pudge and Luanne if I was deciding which girl I would be.
• We already missed the "meet cute," if you consider throwing a condom full of beer at their car a meet cute so enter Buzz and Chip. If those aren't 60s guy names I don't know what are.
• "I got news, you're gonna lose." Melaina to the trashy girls Suette and Nadine (I lied those are the most Southern names of all time). Melaina decides to steal Nadine's man and win Miss Sun Queen instead of Suette. Melaina is a force.
• Big Bob is literally the guy your mother told you not to date, including the car and inability to understand the word no.
• Shaving cream and tissues - this is what they do to get back at Melaina? I don't get it.
• "This is the most fun." Pudge although this phrase is used throughout the movie and I've said it at least six times since I watched the movie on Tuesday. It's my new favorite way to describe everything.
• Pudge and Chip dance. He tries to tell her he's a bad dancer but he's a liar. If this movie doesn't make you want to learn the Shag and the Madison, I can't help you.
• I know everyone is supposed to be all abuzz over Buzz (see what I did there?) but Chip is the only game in town. I love Scott Coffey; he is my biggest 80s holdover crush. If you've never seen Shag, you may remember Scott from Satisfaction (the one with Justine Bateman and Julia Roberts and they're in a band and Liam Neeson is awkwardly involved) or maybe Mulholland Drive. He's a director now. Check out Adult World for a taste of his directing abilities. Anyway, I love Chip. He's sincere, dorky, polite,  clueless, and he can dance. He's perfect (and he aged well).
  
•  No Melaina, you should not do modern ballet to the tune of "Dixie" while waving around a Confederate flag. I don't care that this is 1963 and you're in South Carolina; it's still a terrible idea. As Luanne says, "Modern ballet is trashy." You should recite Scarlett's "Yankees in Tara" speech instead. It's much more dignified as a talent for the Miss Sun Queen pageant. 
• Remember when people got discovered at things like beauty pageants and dance contests? Simpler times with no Ryan Seacrest.
• Of course, Carson calls Harley (her fiance) because she feels guilty about flirting with Buzz. Of course, Harley has to come Myrtle Beach. 
• Jimmy Valentine! If he's not a mini-Elvis I don't know who would be considered that. The actor also appears in one of the only Gywneth Paltrow movies I can tolerate. His teen idol is awesome, exactly what I imagine the life of a 60s teen idol is like. 
• Luanne trying to make Melaina feel better about the one piece bathing suit: "You, Melaina, you are a flower of the South."
• "Holy pajamas." Chip's reaction to Suette's trashy modern ballet routine and a wonderful phrase. 
• The house party! Melaina basically makes Luanne invite Jimmy Valentine over and then things get out of hand and everybody gets knee-walking drunk (you know what I mean). Of course, this leads to Luanne and Harley becoming a thing, Carson and Buzz disappearing on a boat, and Pudge and Chip falling asleep in a bathtub. You know, like every party you went to in college.
• Chip's comment about falling in love but not having to because he met Pudge and he could just write to her instead is the most heartbreaking moment of this entire movie. Pudge, you're my girl.
• And then morning comes. As does the maid to tell everyone that the Senator (Luanne's daddy) is on his way. Additionally, we have to deal with the end of the elaborate "where's Carson?" ruse and awkwardly discuss how her having sex with Buzz makes her "wild." I guess it makes her "wild" in a 1963 kind of way.
• Harley's logic about getting married and not calling off the wedding is the worst logic I have ever heard about getting married ever. He is every bit a proper Southern gentleman.
• Note: Never follow Melaina's advice when it comes to boys. It will only lead to hurt feelings and no partner at the Shag contest.
• I love the sequence with Chip and the Senator. It's earnest and endearing all at the same time.
• The Shag contest is the best part of this movie. Pudge and Chip and "Stagger Lee." I said before and I'll say again, if this movie doesn't make you want to dance (even if you're terrible like me), we can't be friends. The video is below for you to cherish as I do.
  
• Carson: Luanne, why don't we just go up there and say "This was our last weekend together, and we didn't feel like going to Fort Sumter and touring goddamn colonial homes. We wanted to go to the beach and meet boys and go to wild parties and dance." I mean why can't we tell them the truth? Exactly, Carson, why can't we?
• Of course every movie has to end with the singing of your high school anthem because that's how movies work. At least they all look absolutely lovely while singing it.
  
  
   

I don't know about y'all but I'm going to go call some of my friends, learn all the choreography (by the great Kenny Ortega), and find some wonderful party dresses. That sounds like the most fun.

Going out image
Pudge & Chip
Cruising
Poster
Scott Coffey
End of the movie 

Short Story Hour: Pink Ponies of Doom - The Bake Off, Part Two

I gazed out into the audience of the high school gym and saw a cluster of black and pink shirts, towards the front. They seemed to be singing and dancing in the aisle; I couldn't quite tell. The original Pink Ponies of Doom had decided that the only way to support me in the 100th Annual Franklin Hills Bake Off was to make t-shirts featuring my of my favorite My Littel Ponies from childhood. The front of the shirt featured the sweet, friendly faces of the ponies but the back made them into modern day punk baking badasses. Some spiked pony hair, a few tattoos, and I believe Cotton Candy was even sporting a leather jacket and a nose ring. I'm not sure if it was their intention to scare the older women away from the contest or to just be funny. I'll take whatever I can get at this point. My bakery staff and a few other friends were also sporting the shirts and cheering loudly.

I stood behind my table waiting for the third round of judging to begin. It was down to me, Nora Williams, and Fern Allen. The other six contestants had been eliminated in the cookie and cookie bar rounds. Poor Marva hadn't even made it to round two. Nora was a two time bake off winner and Fern held the record for ten wins. I had already proved I was no slouch; I scored perfectly (150 points) in the first two rounds. The Pink Ponies of Doom cookies were a hit; the judges loved the texture and the combo of sweetness and tanginess of the strawberry cream cheese. I was ahead of Fern by ten points; she lost points for sloppy edges in the bar round. Her raspberry lemonade bars were amazing but sloppiness was a rookie mistake.

The third round was the pie round. Pies were judged on three categories: crust (50 points for texture and flakiness); filling (50 points for taste, overall flavor, and consistency), and creativity (50 point for theme, inventiveness, creative ingredient). Judges could dock points for presentation from any of the categories. 

My entry was a S'Mores pie with homemade graham cracker crust (I made the graham crackers too), homemade vanilla bean marshmallows, and a Nutella chocolate filling. Indulgent did not even begin to describe this pie. The richness of the marshmallow and Nutella was balanced by the graham crackers (not too sweet). It was the perfect pie. Nora made her award-winning peach pie with a crumble topping and Fern kept to her theme with a key lime pie (she was going for beverages of summer). Both looked delicious and super simple; no fancy lattice work or odd ingredients. 

The top two bakers would advance to the final round: original cakes. We would have two hours to assemble our cakes in the school kitchen with the help of one assistant. All bakers had to come prepared to advance through all rounds; I had spent the better part of last night creating sugared oranges and fondant creamsicles for my Orange Creamsicle cake. What as more summery than that?

The judges were finally finished with their pie tasting and were deliberating in hushed tones. The gym was noisy; the high school pep band played and people shouted for their favorite baker. It was hot on the little stage; the lights were fixed on each of us like we were on a televised baking competition. My fan club kept cheering for me and dancing in the aisles to the music of the band. Neither Nora nor Fern talked to me or to each other; they had their game faces on.

The band went silent. The judges had come to a decision. The head of the Bake Off committee, Kathleen, stepped on stage with the results."What a great competition so far! Are y'all having fun?" Kathleen's enthusiasm was infectious. The crowd cheered.

"This is one of the closest bake offs in recent history. Our two final bakers are only separated by two points. Our first finalist, advancing to the final round with 443 total points, Fern Allen!" Fern's family shouted and cheered for her.

Kathleen gave them a few seconds to quiet down. "And our second finalist, moving forward with 445 points and keeping her lead, Maeve Lucas!"

I was shocked. Not only was I advancing I had almost gotten a third perfect score. I'd find out later what I lost points for. Kathleen continued, "Fern holds the record for bake off wins with ten under her belt. This is Maeve's first bake off although most of us enjoy her desserts and pastries every day at The Rolling Pin."

"Our bakers and their assistants will have two hours to assemble their final creation: an original cake. The cake round will be judged on taste and texture for both the cake and the frosting, creativity, and adherence to the baker's selected theme. Bakers, your time begins now!" The crowd roared as Fern and I ran back to the kitchen where our assistants waited.

Jake, my assistant, was at our station and had started removing items from our boxes. Ovens were heating and we set to work preparing the cake batters. My plan was to create layers of vanilla cake with a light homemade orange curd as the filling. The orange vanilla frosting would have that something extra from the orange zest. I had three shades of orange selected for the frosting; my intention was to swirl the colors around the cake similar to the push-pop version of the creamsicle that I loved so much as a child. I'd finish it with sugared orange slices and the hand-rolled fondant creamsicles. Nothing super flashy; just fun and refreshing. Like a creamsicle.

Neither of us could see what was happening over at Fern's station. She didn't look happy with her assistant (her granddaughter) but her cake was coming along nicely. I could smell root beer so I assumed she was making a root beer float cake. It smelled delicious.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it we were down to the last thirty minutes. Jake and and I were applying the finishing touches to the decorative elements of the cake and checking for any errant frosting or anything else that could throw off the presentation. All but one layer cake had baked evenly; a little cut off the top had evened it out nicely. Kathleen popped in to give us our ten minute warning. Our cakes needed to be on stage before the ten minutes were up. I inspected the cake one last time, touched up the flourish on top, and decided it was done. I couldn't do anything else at this point. I glanced across the room at Fern; she had already started on her way out the door. Her granddaughter was far ahead of her holding the door and staying out of the way. Jake and I followed suit. My hands were shaking as I walked on stage. I made it to my table without dropping the cake or falling on my face. 

The crowd counted down the last ten seconds with the type of enthusiasm normally associated with basketball games. The Pink Ponies of Doom were the loudest as far as I could tell. The buzzer sounded; it was over. We presented our cakes to the judges, explaining the ingredients, our special touches, and how the cake fit into our theme. Kathleen did the honors of serving the judges, measuring each slice to ensure they received equal amounts. Fern and I headed to our cheering sections while the judges deliberated. 

"You've got this," Lizzie greeted me with a hug and a bottle of water. "Fern has been making some variation of that cake for years. The judges have to be tired of it."

I smiled but was unsure. "Well, she's won ten times. She must be doing something right." Daisy had already planned the after party, win or lose. Before we knew it, the judges had made their final decision.

"Bakers to the stage please. It's time to announce this year's winner!" Kathleen's announcement got the crowd on its feet. Fern and I made our way back to the stage. We shook hands before heading to our tables.

"Alright Franklin Hills, I have the name of our top baker in this envelope. The winner will receive a trophy, a recipe feature in next week's Franklin Hills Gazette's weekend section, and a $500 gift certificate for the Baker's Square. Thanks to the Baker's Square supply store for sponsoring this year's bake off." 

The applause died down and Kathleen opened the envelope. "This year's Franklin Hills Bake Off champion wowed the judges in each round with inventive ingredients, attention to detail, and a whimsical theme that was carried through each creation. With a near perfect overall score, this year's winner is...Maeve Lucas!"

I had unseated ten time winner Fern Allen. I won. Tree house dreams and plastic ponies helped win baking contests. I collected my prizes and posed for photos with my friends and the mayor and Fern. With a soft smile and wink, she vowed revenge next year. 

My cheering section adjourned to The Rolling Pin to celebrate. I placed the trophy out front behind the counter for all to see. Lizzie, Daisy, and I posed for an updated photo enjoying a Pink Ponies of Doom cookies. All that was missing was the tree house.

Short Story Hour: Pink Ponies of Doom - The Bake Off, Part One

"I smell like peanut butter."

I'm saying this to no one. In fact, even if I was saying it to someone, they wouldn't care. I smell like some baked good pretty much every day. The staff at the bakery say it's comforting and delicious to go home smelling of chocolate and vanilla and spices. Normally I don't notice it but today the smell of peanut butter hangs around me and permeates every fiber of my clothes and it's even in my hair. Peanut butter is in my top five favorite foods from childhood and it's one of my favorite ingredients for baking. But right now it's becoming a bit overwhelming.

There are six batches of peanut butter and jelly bars in the oven, turning a golden brown and oozing with jelly goodness. I haven't made these bars in years but I woke up this morning from a dream about my old tree house and eating PB&J sandwiches with my friends and had to make them. I settled on classics, grape and strawberry, for half of the batch and peach and blackberry for the other half. With these bars, the peanut butter cookie base is the bread and the jelly settles into the dough like when a PB&J sandwich sits too long before you eat. The peanut butter and jelly fuse together and it is delicious. I could eat an entire pan of these bars myself; they're that good. I can never make enough.

Rob, one of my bakery assistants, convinced me to compete in the 100th Annual Franklin Hills Bake-Off. I'm going up against some of the most talented home bakers in this town. Women (mostly) who bake recipes handed down from generation to generation. Women who can smell store bought goods a mile away. It's not enough that I'm a success business owner and own the only bakery in town; these women are the real bakers of Franklin Hills and they know it. They may line up for my croissants and scones every morning but that means nothing. I have to win that trophy to really be accepted in this town. I moved here when I was six but I’m still no closer to being a local than the family that moved here last month. I’ve spent the last four weeks experimenting with several recipes trying to get them exactly perfect and never even considered the PB&J bars as a contender (category: bar cookies).

I've been having dreams about the tree house more and more lately. Sometimes it's just a simple image like today where I'm in the tree house with my friends and we're laughing and having fun as we always did when we were young. Other times it's just the tree house and the backyard. In those dreams, I'm in the tree house looking out and waiting. I don't know what I'm waiting for and I always wake up before I can figure it out. Every time I have a tree house dream, I get an idea for a new recipe or a way to make an old recipe sparkle. That's how I got the idea for my bake off theme: Childhood Memories. All of my entries are inspired by the tastes of my childhood.

The front of The Rolling Pin is dark and quiet. I woke up from my tree house dream and couldn't go back to sleep so I came in two hours earlier than usual. The rest of the staff will be in soon enough. Once they get here, I can leave the morning rush to them so I can focus on my next bake off entry: Pink Ponies of Doom.

Like the peanut butter bars, the Pink Ponies of Doom were the result of a tree house dream right after I entered the bake off. In this one, I was sitting in my tree house with my best friends, Lizzie and Daisy, and we're playing ponies. Between the three of us we had every My Little Pony made between 1983 and 1986. The pink ones were our favorite and my dad affectionately called us the Pink Ponies of Doom. The name stuck with us all through school. We even became heroes of sorts to the kids who got picked on by the popular set. We were famous for exacting schoolyard justice when needed; mean girls beware. After the dream, I dug around in the attic and found my old toys including an entire box of ponies. I needed inspiration to come up with a new dessert. I picked my favorite pink ones, Cotton Candy, Parasol, and Lickety Split, and brought them to the bakery. They watched over me, next to a picture of Lizzie, Daisy, and I in the tree house, as I baked and discarded idea after idea for how to make Pink Ponies of Doom.

How could I turn something so amazing as the Pink Ponies of Doom into a baked good? Cutout cookies, although delicious, are too obvious. Cupcakes are overdone, cake pops are a little too modern for this town, and brownies don't work at all. It has to be sweet and a little sour at the same time (my dad used to call us "sweet and sassy; a perfect combination"). Then it came to me: strawberry cream cheese cookies with glittery vanilla frosting. Cream cheese has that slight tang to it that makes it the perfect balance for sweet strawberries and vanilla frosting. I hadn't gotten the combination right though. The last two batches had been too sweet and the one before that too cream cheese-y. I think I figured it out and today would be the perfect batch. The secret: short bread cookie base. I don't know why I hadn't thought about it before. My grandma made the best short bread cookies and she used to make a box for the Pink Ponies of Doom every time she visited. The buttery cookie with the tangy strawberry cream cheese and the vanilla would be heaven. Those ladies would not know what hit them.

When I heard the back door of the bakery open I realized how long I'd been working on the cookies. Rob, Jamie, and Mona took one look at the kitchen and went about getting ready for the morning rush. They ignored my mutterings about pony designs on the frosting and got the croissants and scones baking away. Muffins, I call them breakfast cakes, were ready (sometimes I help out around here). Mona got the coffee going and by 5:30 we were ready to open. The first customer of the day, Marva Davis, was one of my competitors in the bake off. 

"Maeve," she called out over the counter. "What is that heavenly smell?"

I came out from the kitchen to talk with her. "Just something I'm working on for the bake off. I'm not going to tell you what it is; you'll steal my idea." 

Marva faked offense. "I would never! Of course, you can't trust some of the other ladies. They're gunning for you, you know. You're the youngest competitor and the only one from away. You know how they can be." Marva took a seat at one of the cafe tables. She had already eaten have of her breakfast cake.

"From away? I hate it when y'all use that term. I've lived her for over twenty years, not counting when I went away to college. That has to count for something." I slumped in the seat across from her.

"You know how it is, honey. Some people have been here since the town was founded and they think anyone who wasn't born here is from away. It's just how it is. Now if you win, they'll think of you more like one of us. Not a local, but at least not from away anymore. I don't make the rules; I just live here." She finished her breakfast cake (lemon blueberry) and made her way to the door. "Take care, Maeve. I look forward to seeing what you bring to the competition."

"Thanks Marva." I waved as she walked down Oak Street towards the town square. I made my way back behind the counter and into the kitchen. The Pink Ponies of Doom were ready and the PB&J bars had cooled enough to cut. Both were going out as specials this afternoon; a test run to see how people liked them. I was too close to judge anymore. If people liked them, I would finally get to shift my focus to the final category: an original cake recipe. 

I returned to the kitchen to help with the rest of the morning baking and a few special orders for later in the day. The Pink Ponies of Doom, the plastic and the little girl versions, watched from their ledge. I had two weeks until the bake off. That was plenty of time for me to create the greatest cake of all time inspired by my childhood. A cake so amazing it would the hearts and stomachs of an entire town. 

Easy. Not a problem at all.


Will Maeve win the bake off? What is the best cake of all time? Find out this week in Short Story Hour: Pink Ponies of Doom - The Bake Off, Part Two.

Lazy Movie Weekend: Why are there madeleine pans?

Something I never thought would happen has happened. No, Pumpkin did not learn how to open a locked bathroom door and save the day. This would require her to focus on something for longer than two seconds. She only has that level of commitment to napping.

The impossibility that has become reality is this: I love summer movies again. I know, I didn't think it could happen either. I love going to the movies but the last few summers have left me feeling a little off. I would see a movie here and there but haven't been truly excited about summer movies in forever. I've only seen three movies in the theater since summer movie season officially started (although I did see one of the movies twice) but I have multiple weeks planned out from now until the end of August to bask in the glow of action and comedy movies, animated gems, and some random dramas and indie films thrown in for good measure. I also joined the Arlington Cinema Drafthouse movie club so I can see the couple I missed from early May. This is how I plan to see Furious 7. The pass was $30 and I can watch a movie per day for an entire year (and drink beer while doing so if I am so inclined). Glorious.

There are probably lots of reasons that this summer's movie schedule is resonating with me. Could it be the abundance of strong and interesting female characters across multiple genres? Maybe it's the fun of animated films and oddball comedies that I'm reacting to. Or maybe it's the summery feel I get from so many of the trailers. But it's not. Despite the fact that all of these statements are true none of them are what brought me back to summer movies. The real reason that I love summer movies again?

Melissa McCarthy and Jason Statham.

How perfect are they together in Spy? Every scene they share made me laugh more than I expected and in unexpected ways. I thought that Melissa McCarthy's Susan Cooper would be the plucky comic relief in this movie but no, she is the straight woman to Jason Statham's bumbling Rick Ford. I imagine when Paul Feig was writing the film he thought to himself, "How can I create a character that should be all the suave and sophisticated cool of James Bond but is in fact a moron with a gun? And wouldn't it be awesome if Jason Statham agreed to play him? I'm brilliant!!"

I've always been a Melissa McCarthy fan. Sookie St. James was one of my favorite characters on Gilmore Girls and she's had amazing roles in Bridesmaids, Tammy, and St. Vincent. As for Statham, I've seen all of The Transporter movies, and Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels. Given what I know of Statham's more popular films, I figured he'd be the tough guy agent and not have any bit of a sense of humor but it turns out he's wicked funny and the dynamic between him and McCarthy is amazing. They throw zingers right and left and what's even better is that Susan Cooper does not let Rick Ford take over the mission. The world needs both of them to save the day.

One of my favorite exchanges:

Rick Ford: We have to stop the sale of a nuclear bomb. They send in someone who looks like Santa Claus' fucking wife!
Susan Cooper: Uh, did you forget? I am undercover because you are not supposed to be here!
Rick Ford: Well I make a habit out of doing things that people say I can't do: Walk through fire, water ski blindfolded, take up piano at a late age.

What Spy really made me realize is that I need more McCarthy and Statham, as a duo, in my life. Yes, I could just watch all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls again or count the times that Frank Martin uses his clothes as weapons in The Transporter movies but it won't ever be the same. I've heard that Spy is potentially going to be a franchise so we could see more of Susan and Rick (and Nancy and Aldo; I adore them too) but it's not definite. I need definite. I need to know when the next movie is going to come out and how many scenes they'll be in together and whether or not the end of the first film will be addressed (I won't ruin it for you). I need answers.

More importantly, I need more of them together. I don't think more Spy movies will be enough. What we really need is a McCarthy/Statham television show. Originally when I thought about this I settled on buddy cop dramedy (that's totally a thing; think of it like a mix of Law & Order and that Andy Samberg show on Fox) but then I realized we'd have to figure out how to make Statham American and I can't have any of that. The accent is a requirement. Or there would have to be some weird plot device/complication that explains why a British guy is an American cop or that there's some sort of country collaboration happening. The complication of those plot elements don't sit well with me. I don't want to serialize Spy because it's definitely better as a big screen movie (an event if you will) so the CIA, FBI, and any other spy organization is out. I wouldn't want to watch a show set in a hospital or school (too many of those already anyway).

And then it came to me: rival chefs.

I'm not saying that Sookie St. James needs to get her own show but I can see these two as rival chefs who duke it out for culinary superiority in a small Midwestern city (maybe Cincinnati or Detroit or Milwaukee). Maybe there's some sabotage or restaurant themed hijinks. Think of all the awesome supporting characters too; maybe a Kirk-like character who works at both restaurants and some busybody regulars who try to get them to fall in love (which they never do by the way). Maybe Jason should be a single dad with an ultra sassy daughter who hangs around the restaurant saying really sassy things (for a 10 year old). I don't have a title yet but I'm working on it. Clearly Amy Sherman-Palladino should be involved and we could get this on ABC Family (they took Bunheads away so they owe me).

I would also be able to ask Jason Statham the question that needs to be answered and yet no one has ever asked: why does Frank Martin have a madeleine pan and the ingredients to make madeleines in his home but serves Lai instant noodles The Transporter? Why? I assume it's because writer Luc Besson figured I would be paying attention to the number of times Statham is shirtless or uses his clothes as weapons (this happens constantly in the entire franchise) rather than this weird baking scene. However, I find the madeleine scene distracting. Why is it there? I bake all the time and I don't own a madeleine pan so it seems weird that Frank Martin, a man that transports illicit goods, would have this in his kitchen. Is it because the movie takes place in France? I hope this isn't the answer because that would be lame and a bit of a generalization of the French people.

And maybe it's in this question that we've found our opening sequence. In one kitchen, Melissa makes a her famous lemon madeleines as a new dessert offering for her restaurant's summer menu. In the other kitchen, Jason, on a whim, decides to make lemon madeleines too (they happen to be his sassy daughter's favorite). Restaurant goers can't get enough and so our rivalry is born.

It needs some work but I think I've found our answer to what to do between now and the next Spy movie (if there is one; I hope there is one). Anyone want to help me think of a title?

Next up on the Island: Chris Pratt can have Jurassic World; I'm going on a Winosaur Adventure! What's a Winosaur Adventure? Check out next week's post to find out (hint: it may or may not involve wineries and roadside attractions).

Shaken, Not Stirred
Susan and Rick 
Quotes from IMDB